


Psycho

by totallynotachicken



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alfred needs a vacation, Angst, Batman is badass, Blood and Gore, Dick needs a hug, I am hopeless, Multi, Swearing, torture of a child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 18:13:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18481675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totallynotachicken/pseuds/totallynotachicken
Summary: “Let go!” he yelled and the blond looked at him, confused.“Why would I do that? I’m having too much fun!” and without any warning she turned the torch on and pressed the flame to Dicks’ cheek.He screamed as the fire burned into his skin and he started to blindly thrash about. But he couldn’t get out of the insane woman’s grip. She only pushed the small torch closer and watched with fascination as the flame scorched the boys’ skin.





	Psycho

Psycho

 

“Psy-cho; noun, a person suffering from chronic mental disorder with abnormal or violent social behavior.”

            March 17th 2015.

            Samuel Swenner woke up with a splitting headache. He groaned as it became more prominent now that he wasn’t unconscious to block it out. His first thought was that he must’ve been out with Nick and had one too many beers. Again.

            He groaned again and moved to sit up, only, he couldn’t. When he tried to bring his arms to rub at his head, he found that his arms were strapped to either side of him, they were tied to a chair. His legs were in a similar position. He opened his eyes in a panic, but his couldn’t see a thing. He was blindfolded.

            “Hello?” he called out. He was met with nothing, only empty silence.

            “Hello?” he screamed again. He was becoming more and more panicked. “Hello, is there anyone there? Help! Please, I’m tied up! I can’t see anything! Please! Won’t someone help me?”

            Silence was his only answer. It was too deafening. It shrieked at him, laughing and yelling at him. It echoed all around him, suffocating him in a blanket of nothingness.

            He bucked and squirmed as hard as he could, but to no avail. The ropes around his wrists and ankles were too thick. The more he rubbed against them, the tighter they seemed to get.

            What was happening to him? Was he kidnapped? Why would someone want to do that? He was an accountant, nothing major. He had a husband and two kids! What was going on?

            No one answered his silent questions. His only company was the ever present silence.

He thrashed. He screamed. He pleaded. He threatened. He cried. Nothing happened. He sat like that for hours, days, he couldn’t tell. But then, he heard a noise.

It was faint at first, barely a sound. But it became louder as the time ticked slowly on. It was a voice. A girls voice, sweet and cheerful, but sounding haunting and deadly at the same time. She sounded like she was getting nearer and nearer. Sam could hear her feet click clack of heels against pavement. As she drew closer, he began to make out what she was saying.

“Oh be careful little eyes what you see,” Click clack went the shoes.

“Oh be careful little eyes what you see.” Click clack.

“There’s a Father up above who’s looking down on us, so be careful little eyes what you see!” click clack click.

Her voice was beautiful. It matched the song perfectly, only, in the wrong way. She sang it hauntingly. Letting each syllable carry out a second longer than she should have. He honey voice echoing off whatever walls there were eerily.

Samuel shivered as a spike of fear cascaded through him, freezing his veins into ice. His breath hitched and his heart stopped.

“Oh be careful little ears what you hear,” click clack. The footsteps grew nearer.

“Oh be careful little ears what you hear,” click clack. Closer and closer she came.

“For there’s a Father up above who’s looking down on us, so be careful little ears what you hear!” click clack click.

“Oh be careful little heart who you trust,” clack click.

“Oh be careful little heart who you trust,” clack click.

“Cause there’s a Father up above who looking down on us, so be careful little heart who you trust!” click clack, a giggle.

“Oh be careful little mind how you fare,” click clack, closer.

“Oh be careful little mind how you fare,” click clack.

“For there’s a Demon down below who’s watching as you go, so be careful little mind how you fare!” the footsteps stopped right in front of Samuel. He could smell a faint perfume on the young lady. Samuel’s fear barreled down upon him. What the hell was happening?

“Hello there,” the girl whispered, her breath sending more shivers down his spine. Samuel stiffened.

“How does your mind fare? Has the Demon gotten it yet?” her horse voice filled the room once more.

Samuel didn’t say anything, he was too scared. It was a mistake. His silence seemed to anger the girl. Sharp pain clawed at Sam’s shoulder as she dug her long nails into him. Sam supressed a shout of pain. The girl leaned in closer and whispered, “How. Does. Your. Mind. Fare?” her voice could barely be heard. Sam gritted his teeth.

“F-fine,” he stuttered. The nails slid out of his shoulder and Sam sighed with relief, but froze when she spoke again.

“Don’t worry, my darling. I’ll fix that for you. I’ll fix you right up.”  

 

It was three weeks before anyone found Samuel Swenner. He was found by a bunch of teens in an abandoned warehouse. The kids called the cops and the boys in blue brought him to the police station to tell them what happened. Only there was a problem.

Samuel Swenner was not the same man he was the three weeks previous. His eyes were glazed over and he appeared like he hadn’t had a shower since he went missing. When they asked him anything, he would only sputter and start muttering a song.

“Oh b-be careful l-little eyes w-wh-at ya s-see…” on and on he went. No one could get anything out of him. His husband and two daughters did everything they could but it was no use. He was insane.

The police of Gotham searched everywhere for his kidnapper, but ended out with no leads. After a couple of weeks, they stopped looking. They had more important things to deal with than an insane mans’ kidnapper.

It wasn’t until a month later when they regretted it. Alison Johnson went missing one night after she was done cleaning a middle school. Her boyfriend, sister, and mom called the police and another missing person was on more milk cartons.

Two weeks later, they found her. In a park. When they approached her, she didn’t give them any knowledge that she had seen them. They talked to her but she just stared off into space, heeding nothing at all.

It wasn’t until the third victim that the people of Gotham started calling the kidnapper, Psycho. Because whoever he kidnapped, he turned insane one way or another.

Like the ten year old girl who would only slap her hands against a wall and yell; “Death to all burgers!”

Or the seventy year old man who just said hello, over and over.

Or the police officer who would make a gun with his fingers and ‘shoot’ at anyone who came near him.

It was all the same. Psycho had done this all to them, and there was no way to get them back to how they were. Ever.

Psycho would pick a random person each month and turn them crazy. No one could find him and no one knew who would be next.

So for the next three years, Gotham lived in fear. And Psycho lived in insanity.

 

 

Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson woke up with a groan when his alarm clock started blaring at him. He groggily waved his arm in the air, trying to hit the damn thing without having to open his eyes. His arm eventually found the obnoxiously loud device and he thrust his arm at it with all his sleepy might. It fell off his nightstand and onto the floor where it broke.

Dick uttered a few curse words when he heard the telltale crash. He slumped up into a seated position and rubbed at his eyes, trying to get the last bit of drowsiness out of him.

When he was awake enough to crawl out of bed, he rushed around his room looking for clean enough clothes to wear.

He picked up a random shirt off the ground and the fourteen year old sniffed at it experimentally. Bad idea. He scrunched his nose and dropped the shirt as fast as he could. After a few minutes of clothes searching, he settled for a slightly stained shirt and not too bad looking jeans.

He then padded out of his room and into the bathroom where he brushed his teeth and attempted to comb his hair down. He gave up a few minutes later. It was no use. His hair would probably stay stuck up everywhere until he went bald.

“Master Grayson?” Alfred Pennyworth, their butler, called to him from downstairs in the dining room.

“Yeah Alf?” Dick shouted back, flinging the door open.

“Breakfast is served!” Alfred yelled.

“Okay! I’m coming!” Dick ran down the stairs and skidded into the dining room. He was surprised to see his adopted father, Bruce Wayne or Batman as Dick and Alfred knew him, sitting at the table reading the newspaper. He glanced up as Dick thundered in.

“You shouldn’t run in the house,” he reprimanded.

Dick rolled his eyes and took a seat on the opposite side of the table. “Good morning to you too,” he huffed.

Alfred stood off to the side.

Dick and Bruce ate their food in silence. When they were almost done, Dick plucked up the courage to ask Bruce something.

“So… um my schools doing this father/son thing where we go fishing for a day and I was… kinda… wondering if… if… you w-would go with me? It’s on in two weeks on Friday and its sounds really fun and cool and fun and… stuff.” The teenager held his breath as he waited for Bruce to answer.

The multi billionaire met his eyes and shook his head. “Can’t. I’m too busy.” He looked back at his newspaper.

Dick let out his breath and glowered at his food. His brows met together and he shoved the rest of his now bland breakfast into his mouth. He quickly stood up and left the table in a huff. He went upstairs to get his things ready for school.

He roughly slammed everything into his backpack, a dark cloud hung over his head. Why couldn’t Bruce just take a day off? Was it too much to ask? He worked probably harder than anyone else Dick knew, with his ownership at Wayne Enterprises and as Batman. He was away almost all the time and barely had any time for Richard. It wasn’t fair!

He didn’t even let Dick go out as Robin as much as he’d like to, saying it was ‘too dangerous’ for him. He was fourteen for heaven’s sake! He could handle anything and anyone!

He threw on some sneakers and his favourite blue hoodie and went back downstairs and out the door.

He didn’t bother to say goodbye.

 

He got on the bus and sat in the back, looking out the window sourly. His mood turned much darker when he overheard what the two guys in front of him were talking about.

“Hey, so is your dad gonna be there?”

“Oh yeah! I’m so excited! No school and fishing! It’s gonna be epic!”

“Said the guy who thinks reading comic books is epic.”

“Hey! They are! Why don’t you wanna read any there awesome! My favourites this one about a girl whose parents get killed and she becomes Bird Woman and she fights this bad guy called the Giggler!”

“You are such a nerd!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

Dick tuned the rest out. He didn’t want to hear any more. It’s not like he cared, though. He didn’t care that Bruce didn’t want to spend time with him. He didn’t give a shit if Bruce wanted to hang out with him. He didn’t. At all.

He sighed and stared out at the buildings and cars speeding by.

“Why the long face, Dicky? Did it stretch in the wash?” came a voice beside him.

Dick turned to see his best friend, Mike slide into the seat beside him.

“Or did that ego of yours go right to your head and it’s just bloated?”

Dick smiled, an actual, real smile. Leave it to Mike to cheer him up.

“Nah, it’s just my brain getting bigger,” he replied and scooted over a bit to give his friend more space.

Mike grinned at him and slapped him over the head.

“Unlikely.” His best friend smirked. “But seriously, you okay man?” Mike inquired.

Dick shook his head. “I’m alright.” He paused. “Bruce isn’t going to come to the fishing trip.”

“What? Why the fuck not?” Mike demanded, his face angry.

Dick shrugged. “Says he’s too busy.”

Mike scoffed. “Busy my ass. Well, you can just come with me and my old man.” He offered.

“Thanks,” Dick smiled thankfully at him.

Mike shrugged. “No problem. I’m just that nice.”

Dick rolled his eyes, still grinning. The two of them chatted away for the rest of the ride and into school to their lockers, discussing how they would spend their time.

“We need to make sure we push Xavier into the river at least once,” Mike announced and Dick nodded.

The bell rang and the boys parted ways.

All through school, Dick had mixed emotions about the upcoming fishing trip. Yes, he was excited to go, but he was also angry at Bruce for not coming with him. But he was also grateful to Mike and his dad for letting him tag along.

When the bell rang to signal that the treacherous day of learning was over, Dick raced out of school. He didn’t bother waiting for Mike, he had band practice.

He hopped on the bus and went to his usual seat in the back and started doing his homework.

When his bus finally stopped, Dick raced off the bus. He ran the rest of the way home.

When he got to Wayne Manner, he dashed up to his bedroom and attempted to do the rest of his homework at his desk. But there’s only so much English you can do before your brain is fried.

Dick flopped onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure how long he did that but before he knew it, Alfred was calling to him that it was dinner time. He rolled off his bed and slumped down the stairs.

He sagged into a chair and pushed the food around with his fork, not having that big of an appetite.

“Not hungry, Master Richard?” Alfred inquired.

Dick shook his head. “No.”

“Does this have anything to do with what happened earlier this morn-”

“No!” Dick interrupted and looked at Alfred. Alfred had an eyebrow raised.

“No, I’m fine. I’m just… not very hungry.” Dick sighed and stood up. “Thanks anyway.”

Maybe if he got some fresh air.

“I’m going to the Bat cave, Alf,” Dick said and walked down the halls and into a room with a large fireplace. He pressed a button on the side and the secret door behind the fireplace opened up. Dick smiled a little, remembering the first time he found out about the cave.

 

_Ten year old Dick Grayson wandered the halls and rooms of the gigantic house. He couldn’t believe he would get to stay here! It was like a dream come true!_

_He’d always wanted to live in a big house and now, he was._

_He giggled as he ran down another hallway. His adopted dad, Bruce Wayne, THE Bruce Wayne, was out doing work or something and Dick had gotten bored playing Go-Fish with Alfred all day. So when said butler went to make them some snacks, he took off._

_It was a lot more confusing than Dick thought the house would be. There were twists and turns and room after room. He wondered why Bruce needed a big house since it was only him and the nice Alfred._

_He dashed through another hallway and saw a door to his left. He barreled in. It was a large room with a fireplace with cool designs and bookshelves with millions of books. There were sofa’s and widows and little nick knacks._

_Dick looked around the room, wishing he had more than two eyes so he could see more. He stumbled around the room as he craned his neck to see everything._

_He was so preoccupied that he didn’t notice where he was walking and banged right into the side of the fireplace. When Dick settled himself with a hand, his palm pushed down on one of the swirly designs on it. Dick jerked his hand back in horror. Had he just broken it?_

_He was still staring at it when the fireplace moved._

_He gasped and stumbled back as said fireplace started to slide off to the right and disappear behind the wall. Dick’s eyes went as huge as saucers when he saw that behind the fireplace… was a secret tunnel!_

_“Holy shit!” the ten year old exclaimed and he ran a hand through his hair. After a few seconds he took a tentative step forward. He glanced behind him and when he saw no one, he bolted into the secret tunnel without allowing himself to think it through._

_He ran deeper and deeper into the tunnel. It became darker as he went and he kept tripping over nothing._

_Then, he saw light up ahead. He grinned to himself and went on. This was so cool! He had found a secret tunnel!_

_He was still gloating in his victory when he reached the end of the tunnel. He stopped short at what he saw._

_His jaw hit the floor as his eyes scanned the cave before him. There were cars and computers everywhere, and as he peered a little closer, he realized they weren’t any old cars or computers. They were the Batcars! He knew this because Batman was his favourite superhero. He was probably his biggest fan._

_He slowly walked into the cave in awe. He didn’t know what to look at first._

_As he was about to approach one of the Batmobiles, he heard a rumbling sound. He turned towards the sound and saw that a part of the wall in the cave was opening! He gasped in shock as a Batcar drove in and parked a couple yards off._

_He gaped as none other than Batman stepped out. Bat- freaking-man!_

_He watched as Batman walked a little way away from his car, too preoccupied with his thoughts to notice the young man standing a few meters away. He distractedly threw off his mask and tossed it to the side._

_Dick couldn’t believe what he saw. Under the mask was none other than his adopted father Bruce Wayne!_

_He gasped again and Batman- no Bruce’s head snapped toward him and his eyes went round in shock and panic. They both stared at each other for a long moment._

_Dick knew he needed to say something. To explain himself. To tell Bruce that he wasn’t going to tell. And that this was awesome._

_But all that came out of his mouth was; “I have all your action figures!”_

Dick pulled himself out of his memories as he entered the Batcave. He glanced around to see if Bruce was there and sighed with relief when he saw no sign of the man. Good.

He went over to his corner of the cave and grabbed his suit. He put it on and looked himself over in the reflection of a nearby Batmobile. Robin stared back at him. He smiled, so did Robin.

He then got onto his motorcycle and drove off.

 

It was dark when he allowed himself a break. He had been stopping crime all night and it was exhausting. He had stopped two bank robberies, an attempted rape, three muggings, and some poor lady’s cat out of a tree.

He sighed and ran a gloved hand through his hair. Maybe he should go back to the manor, he did have school tomorrow. Or, as he looked at his watch, in couple of hours.

He jumped a little when his phone rang. He fumbled for it and looked at the screen. He groaned. Bruce.

“Hello?” he asked.

“Richard Grayson!” came Bruce’s booming voice. Shit, Dick knew he was in trouble when Bruce called him by his full name.

“Where the hell have you been?” Bruce demanded.

Dick felt a little annoyed. “Out,” he answered in a huff.

“Out? As in ‘out-with-your-friends out’ or out as in out-being-Robin out, because I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to ask me before you go around super-heroing!”

“What do you care?” snapped Dick, becoming very impatient with Bruce.

“What do I care?” Bruce repeated and Dick could hear the edge in his tone. “I’m your _father,_ Richard!”

“You sure have a funny way of showing it!” Dick yelled into his phone. Maybe it was the fact that he had been up late, maybe because he had been doing nothing but defending people from assholes, or maybe it was because Bruce didn’t pay any attention to him. Whatever the reason, Dick’s filter had gone on vacation and he had had enough.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you don’t give a fuck about me or anyone else except your jobs!” Dick seethed. His eyes were ablaze with anger.

“Watch your language, young man,” Bruce warned and Dick gave a short laugh.

“Or you’ll what? Send me to my room? Put me in a corner for fifteen minutes? Ground me?”

“Richard…”

“What?” Dick started pacing. Somewhere a pair of eyes watched the teen shriek at his so-called father, but Dick was too pissed to notice.

“Mind your tone, Richard. I don’t appreciate you g-”

“Well maybe I don’t appreciate you!” Once the words were out of his mouth, Dick wished he could take them back. There was silence on the other end of the phone for a minute and Dick almost apologized. Almost.

“We will finish this discussion when you get home,” Bruce’s voice was cold and hard, showing no emotion at all.

“Fine!” Dick forcefully ended the call. He stood there for a moment before yelling in frustration. Great! Now he was going to get Bruce’s reprimand and a talking about ‘respecting his elders’ and all that shit. Why couldn’t he learn to keep his mouth shut?

Dick was so angry that he didn’t notice the pair of eyes gleam in anticipation. Or the soft footsteps come toward him. Or the piece of cloth in her hand before it was too late.

A rag was roughly shoved in his mouth and nose from behind and he inhaled sharply. He tried to fend off the attacker, but the person had gotten a hold of Dick’s arms in arms of steel.

As Dick fought back, his mind started growing groggy and he did his best not to breathe in the sickly sweet smell on the cloth but it was no use. He saw blackness spreading about his vision and getting weaker and weaker. And all he could think about was that he was so tied.

“Yes,” a quiet feminine voice soothed. “Sleep, little Birdie.” And Dick knew no more.

 

 

When Dick woke up, he had a huge headache. It thrummed loudly against his skull. Dick moved to rub at his temple but was held back by something. Dick furrowed his brow and opened his eyes. It was blurry and he had to blink his eyes a few times to clear his vision.

When his eyes focused, he immediately glanced down to see what was keeping him from moving his arm. He saw that his arms were tied down to something. He blinked again. His appendages were strapped to the arms of a chair. And after further inspecting, he found that his legs were also tied down to the legs of the metal chair.

All at once, he remembered the night before. Going out as Robin, his fight with Bruce, then… he frowned as he tried to recall what happened after.

He had hung up and then… then… then a cloth was pressed over his mouth and he had passed out. He’d been kidnapped! But by whom? Was it the Joker? No, Dick could clearly recall hearing a woman’ voice.

Harley Quinn? He didn’t think so. Harley had a slight Boston accent and this woman sounded British. He racked his brain for any British sounding females, but all he could come up with was Ms. Jeno the custodian.

Dick looked down at his restraints and he jerked his arms and legs in an attempt to free himself. He pulled with all his might, but the straps were too strong. They seemed to be made of… leather. Thick leather.

Breathing hard, he glanced around for something to help him get out of the chair. He discovered that he was in a largish room with walls made of cracked cement. A door was situated a couple meters in front of Dick. It was shut. And probably locked too.

 There was a window off to Dick’s right and he could just make out another one on the left out of his peripheral vision. The floor and windowsills were covered in layers of dust and dirt and Dick wondered how long it had been since anyone had been here.

Speaking of here, where was he?

Dick craned his neck to see out of the right window, but it was covered in too much dust to see the faded light out of. It was the same story with the other window. He gave the room another one over, but nothing in the room told him where he was.

Then an idea struck him. He couldn’t _see_ anything but…

He closed his eyes and listened intently to everything around him. He could hear the faint sound of wind blowing and… leaves! He could hear leaves moving slightly in the wind! Smiling slightly, he held his breath to hear better. He could hear the sound of a woodpecker drilling into a nearby tree and… a buzzing noise. Bees? Flies? He couldn’t tell.

Nothing else met his ears and Dick reopened his eyes. So he knew he was somewhere nears trees. That was a start.

_‘Yeah_ , Dick though sarcastically. _‘There sure aren’t many trees in the world.’_

Frustration and annoyance boiled in Dick’s veins as he tried ridding himself of his binds once more. No use. He slumped in his chair, as well as you can slump when you’re tied up.

Dick felt bruises forming on his wrists and ankles. Wonderful. He glanced around the room once more. Nothing had changed since he last stared at his surroundings. Maybe it h-

A sound stopped his train of thoughts. It was a clicking sound, like heels. Click, clack, click, clack. They came closer and closer. Click, clack. They stopped right in front of the door. Dick could hear a small giggle from behind it.

“Oh, Birdie!” an eerie soft voice, almost too quiet to hear called out. “Birdie, Birdie!” The door was flung open and hit the wall with a thud. In the door way stood a young woman, who looked to be in her early twenties. She had long blond hair and bright blue eyes. She wore an unbuttoned white scientist coat and had on blue scrubs underneath with jet black high heels. She was the most beautiful woman Dick had ever seen.

Dick unconsciously tugged on his binds as the woman grinned insanely and stalked toward him, her heels clicking as she walked. She padded right in front of the restrained teen and leaned down so she was eye level with him.

“Why hello there, Birdie. How does your mind fare?” she whispered and her baby blues searched his face.

“Who the fuck are you and why am I tied to a fucking chair?” Dick exclaimed angrily. The young woman frowned at him. “That is the wrong answer,” she whispered and backhanded him across the cheek. The teen’s head snapped roughly to the side and Dick let out a gasp of pain and shock. His cheek stung and he tasted blood.

The woman harshly grabbed his jaw and forced his dazed eyes to face hers. She had a deadly look in her eyes and her voice dripped with menace. “How does your mind fare?” she quietly inquired again.

Dick glared at her. “Just peachy, yours?” he asked sarcastically.

The lady looked taken aback by the question. She seemed to ponder it a moment and Dick got a glance of the now open door. It looked like it led into a hallway.

“I do believe I’m quite fine, thank you Birdie,” the pretty blond said.

 Dick scowled. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not? You are a Birdie,” his captor reached up and plucked off his mask.

“Hey! Put it back!” Dick panicked. The woman just ignored his commands and fiddled with the mask in her hands.

“Give it back,” Dick tried again. He got a hard slap to the face.

“Shush, little Birdie,” she ordered the boy.

Dick recovered quickly from the slap. “Give it back, it’s mine.”

The girl snapped her head to him and rose up to her full height, glaring at him. She was pretty intimidating. “You,” she said softly, voice quivering with rage. “Will do as you are told.”

Dick had to crane his neck to meet her gaze. “And if I don’t?”

The woman smiled coldly and faster than he could see, pulled out a knife from her coat pocket and tore it through his left shoulder.

The fourteen year old cried out and shut his eyes and the knife dug deeper and deeper, causing sharp white pain throughout his arm. She dragged the blade from the top of his shoulder to his elbow and left it in there. Blood weld up and dripped onto the dirty floor as Dick writhed in pain. She took a step back to admire the screaming boy in the chair.

After a few minutes, Dick was finally able to stop screaming. He breathed hard and fast, his eyes blurring with tears that fell from his face. He was vaguely aware that the woman had leaned in and could barely make out what she was saying.

“If you don’t,” she grinned insanely. “Then I get to punish you until your broken and obeying my every words.”

A shiver of fear coursed through Dick.

“And mark my words, Birdie. I _will_ break you.”

“Y-you’re ins-sane,” Dick managed to gasp out through the throbbing pain. The blond smiled at him and combed her fingers through his hair. Dick flinched at the touch but the girl continued to stroke his black locks.

“I prefer the term, Psychotic.”

The teens’ eyes widened. “You’re… you’re Ps-sycho!” he squirmed in his chair as nails dug into his head, causing another spasm of agony cascaded through his arm and he cried out. He closed his eyes, willing the pain away.

“Sshh,” whispered the woman, Psycho. She leaned in and kissed Dick comfortingly on the forehead. “Don’t worry my little Birdie, I’ll keep you safe.”

 

 

Bruce Wayne glanced at the clock again for the twentieth time and continued his pacing as Alfred watched on from the other side of the living room. 4:37 it read, one minute later than the last time he had checked. Bruce ran a hand through his hair. Where the hell was he?

After the fight, Bruce had waited for Richard to come home. But he never did. For the first hour, Bruce had reasoned that the young teen was just procrastinating coming back. But when two hours went by without the Boy Wonder making an appearance, Bruce had begun to get a little worried.

He had called Richard again and again, but it just went to voicemail.

Bruce looked at the clock that now said it was 4:38.  

“Bruce, if you keep wearing down that same spot, you’re going to make a dent in the floor,” Alfred pointed out. His voice sounded tired and worn, and Bruce knew he was worried because he had just called him ‘Bruce’ instead of ‘Master Bruce’.

The last living Wayne muttered an apology, but didn’t stop. “What if he’s hurt, Alfred? What if he can’t tell us where he is and he’s just lying somewhere in the middle of Gotham… dying?” His voice broke a tiny bit. “And all we’re doing here is waiting for him?”

“I know you’re worried, so am I,” Alfred said. “But we mustn’t be too hasty to any assumptions. He could very well just be giving us a bit of a scare, to show us up in a way.”

Bruce nodded, not meeting Alfred’s eyes. He knew Alfred was probably right, after all, it was he who had been so harsh with Richard. He should’ve been kinder when they talked earlier. Should’ve listened to Richard. He gave a short, cold laugh at himself. Some father he was.

He recalled the morning before, how the teenager had asked him to do something with him and Bruce had said he was ‘too busy’. Now he wished he had said yes.

The clock told him it was 4:40. He couldn’t wait any longer.

“I’m going to go find him,” he told Alfred who nodded.

“Can I be of service in any way?” the butler asked.

Bruce caught his eye. “Stay here just in case he comes back.”

Alfred nodded. “Good luck.”

Bruce smiled and went down the hall to the foyer and out the front door and into the parking garage. It was raining now, and he had to speed walk as not to get soaked. He walked toward one of the cars and hopped in. It was mostly like the Batmobile, but he could be Bruce Wayne behind the wheel.

He gunned the engine and raced out of the garage and towards Gotham.

“Computer,” he ordered. “Track Richards phone.”

‘Processing… tracking Richard Grayson’s cell phone,” came a feminine voice. It tracked the young Grayson’s device and Bruce followed the signal into Gotham. He wove in and out of streets until he came to a dark alley. He did a double check to make sure it was the correct spot, then got out of the vehicle.

He immediately spotted Richards’ cell lying on the ground and ran over to pick it up. He turned the wet phone over in his hands. Ruined, but not unsalvageable. He glanced up and looked around. “Richard!” he called out. “Richard!” no response. He searched the alley for anything else. There!

Just a few meters away from where he found the phone, was a piece of cloth. Bruce scooped it up and examined it. It was covered in rain and dirt. He brought it up to his nose and gave a tentative sniff.

Chloroform.

Bruce jerked the cloth away from his face and glared at it. Shit. He gave another one over around the alley and got back in his car. He called Alfred in a rush.

“Hello? Master Bruce, find anything?”

“Alfred,” Bruce breathed heavily. “We have a problem.”

 

 

Dick weaved in and out of conscious after the girl, Psycho, left. She had ripped out the knife and wrapped a piece of cloth around his arm rather messily, then bounced off to do who knows what. Dick had tried to get out of his bindings, but that only aggravated his arm and he stopped pretty quickly.  

He glanced about the room dazedly, his eyes blurring now and then. The light had become more apparent and Dick guessed that it was sometime in the afternoon. It was hot and humid in the room, and Dick hopped that it wasn’t a fever doing that.

The sound of heels on cement broke him out of his daze and he immediately tensed. The door was thrown open and Psycho walked in grinning and humming to herself. She carried a large duffle bag with her. She winked at him. “How’s my little Birdie holding up?” she asked in a sickly sweet tone. Dick only glared at her. She frowned, dropped the bag, and padded over to him.

“How. Is. My. Little. Birdie. Doing?” She towered in front of him, and, when he still didn’t say anything she pressed her nails into his wounded arm, causing him to cry out. “Well?”

“I’m f-fine,” he choked and squeezed his eyes shut. He opened them when she let go of him. He hated how weak he was.

 She walked behind and out of his vision. He tried to turn his head, but couldn’t see her. She continued to hum and he heard her rummage around in her bag. When she seemed satisfied with what she had, she skipped back into his line of sight, holding an armful of things.

Psycho put her armload down and took out a piece of rope and tied it tightly to the crook of his right elbow.

“Now.” She reached for a few things off the floor. She held up the same knife she had used earlier and Dick stiffened at the sight. She caught his discomfort and brought the dagger up to his face.

“Remember this?” She giggled. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and lowered the knife to his left arm. “This may hut a little. Would you like me to sing to ease the pain?” When Dick didn’t say anything she rose her right hand to his left arm.

“Yes!” Dick panicked before she could hurt him anymore. She gasped in delight at the power she held over the boy.

“Good Birdie!”

Dick didn’t meet her eyes.

 “And since you are being so cooperative, I’m sing you one of my favourites!” she exclaimed joyfully. Turning to his other arm, she started to hum. It was a very familiar tune.

She brought the knife to his wrist and slowly dug into his skin. Dick supressed a cry as she went on.

“Hush little Birdie, don’t say a word! Mama’s gonna get you a mockingbird!” Her voice was soft and beautiful, but it was so wrong. Dick scrunched up his eyes as she carved into his skin, he couldn’t jerk his arm away due to the tightly tied rope around his arm. He shut his mouth, trying desperately not to give her the satisfaction of him screaming.

“And if that mockingbird’s a Robin, mama won’t stop until your crying!” She paused a moment to admire her handy work, before continuing. The poor teen gritted his teeth as sharp pain flared as more of his skin was cut.

“And if you cry all out of tears, mama’s gonna make you drown in your fears!” A small moan escaped Dick lips and Psycho chuckled darkly as she went on.

“And if you start to feel brave at all, mama’s gonna make you feel oh so small!” she started to work faster, and the Boy Wonder had to hold his breath to stop from crying out. The knife cut into his skin for a moment more, then stopped and Psycho stood up with a huge grin on her face. She turned to face him.

“And when you’re broke and can’t be fixed,” she leaned in and whispered the last part. “Mama’s gonna declare you a lunatic!”

Shivers spider-walked up Dick’s spine and he turned his head away from her demonic eyes. She grabbed his jaw and forced him to meet her gaze.

“Did you like my song?” she inquired. Dicks breathing became pants as he stared into her baby blues. “Did you?” Her voice was barely a whisper. She towered over him as she waited for an answer.

“Y-yes,” he swallowed hard.

“Thank you,” she beamed. “Do you want to see the tattoo I gave you?” Without waiting for his answer, she roughly turned his head to look at his arm. The cuts were deep enough to scar. His appendage was covered with blood, but Dick could make out the carving in his arm. He froze as he registered it.

_BIRDIE_

Psycho cackled at the horrified expression on his face. “Don’t you like it? Now you’ll never forget me!” she giggled at him. Tears threatened to burst out of Dicks’ eyes, but he forced them not to fall. He wasn’t about the cry in front of this maniac.

The girl patted his cheek and Dick flinched a little.

“Do you want to see my other tools?” she didn’t wait for his response and dashed behind him where she stowed her bag. He could hear her rummaging around in her bag, but he barely acknowledged it. He couldn’t take his eyes off the scar on his arm. His heart thudded in his chest.

“Got it!” Psycho shrieked from behind him and leapt in front of Dick. Dicks’ eyes fell onto the item in her hand, it was a small torch. She dangled it in front of his nose then snatched it back.

“You ready?” she flashed him her teeth.

“For what?” he croaked and tried leaning back, but didn’t get very far.

“This,” with one hand she grabbed his hair and pulled his face up to her other, the one holding the torch. He tried wrenching out of her grasp but the young lady had a grip on steel.

“Let go!” he yelled and the blond looked at him, confused. “Why would I do that? I’m having too much fun!” and without any warning she turned the torch on and pressed the flame to Dicks’ cheek.

He screamed as the fire burned into his skin and he started to blindly thrash about. But he couldn’t get out of the insane woman’s grip. She only pushed the small torch closer and watched with fascination as the flame scorched the boys’ skin.

Dick bucked and squirmed beneath Psycho, yelling and crying incoherently at the top of his lungs.

After a few more seconds which felt like eternity, Psycho drew back and let go of his hair. Dick’s body shuddered and tears streamed down his face. He moaned and gasped, his eyes scrunched up.

Psycho looked at the boys’ face with glee. His whole cheek was burned and so was a small part of his lip. She dropped the tool and touched the burned flesh. The teen cried out and pulled away from her, his eyes flung open and Psycho was taken aback at the fire that was held within his blue orbs.

“How fascinating.” She smiled at the boy. “You have such an intense fire in your eyes, I look forward to the day I extinguish it.”

 

 

He glared up at her. “Fuck you,” he growled.

The girls eyes narrowed and she slapped him, on the burnt cheek. The boy screamed as her hand came in contact with his face. More tears slid down his face. Psycho giggled, picked up her tools, and left the room. Leaving her little Birdie to cry himself to sleep.  

 

 

Dick glanced around the room warily when he woke up a couple hours later. His head and arms were throbbing, his cheek burned, and his throat felt like sandpaper. He tried to swallow but he had no saliva to spare. And whenever he moved his jaw in the slightest the large burn on his cheek reminded him that it was there.

Dick blinked his eyes a few times to clear his head.

The tell-tale sound of clicking heels made the teenager freeze and turn his eyes to the door. Sure enough, the door opened and in walked Psycho.

“Good morning my little Birdie,” she exclaimed and waved a little, and the bag on her arm swung from the motion.

Morning? It was morning already? Had he been here for a day already?

She click clacked her way over to him and knelt down to get to his level. “Now, I’m pretty sure you must be very thirsty.” She spoke to him like he was a little boy. She then reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle of water. Dicks’ eyes latched onto the liquid before him and he was pretty sure his throat got drier.

“Do you want this?” Psycho asked him, waving it in front of his face. Dick kept his mouth shut, not taking his eyes off the bottle.

“If you want it, you can have it!” Psycho grinned at him. “But,” she went on. “You going to have to say please. Well?”

The boy in the chair looked helplessly from the bottle of water to a giggling Psycho. He knew he couldn’t give in to her games but… He glanced at the plastic bottle again and inwardly groaned. It looked so good!

Psycho, who seemed to be enjoying his misery, opened the cap and took a long swing of the water. “Mmm. This is fantastic, probably the best I’ve ever had!” she whispered darkly. “It’s so refreshing and cold and delicious.”

Dick turned his head away and kept his gaze fixed on the ground. He waited in a few agonizing silent seconds before Psycho sighed.

“Oh well, if you don’t want it, I won’t force you to have it!”

He heard her get up and slowly make her way to the door. The dark haired teen stole a glance at her as she walked away. She way halfway to the door when Dick croaked out, “W-wait.”

Psycho spun around, a huge smirked alighting her face. “Yes?” she made her way back to him.

Dick bit his lip and turned away from her stare. “Please…” he whispered.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you very well. What was that?” teased the blond woman.

“Please c-can I have some w-water?” he ashamedly met her eyes. She was grinning from ear to ear. “But of course you may! Anything for my Birdie!” She unscrewed the lid once more and brought the bottle to Dicks’ parched lips. He greedily swallowed the liquid miracle. It hurt his cheek like hell, but he ignored the pain.

After a few gulps, the bottle was yanked from his mouth. He whimpered and tried to move forward.

“Uh huh. I think that enough for now. If you’re a good little Birdie then I might let you have more!” Psycho said and patted his burnt cheek. Dick cried out a little at the contact. He pulled his head back quickly and out of reach from the insane monster.

She stood up and started rummaging through her bag and muttered under her breath until, “Aha!” She yanked out a long, dark rag and threw the bag on the floor. Leaning back over to her captive, she reached towards his head.

“What are you doing?” he jerked away from her. She rolled her eyes. “Relax, I’m just putting this over your eyes.”

“And if I don’t want it on?”

She glared at him and swiftly slapped his charred skin. He screamed and his head snapped back.

“That’s what will happen. Now you can either sit still like a good Birdie or I can cut off your arm, your choice.

Dick let out a shaky breath and didn’t move. Psycho gave him a curt nod and tied the rag tightly over his eyes. It was thick and too tight to see anything out of it.

“There, now…” Dick stiffened as her hands went to his binds and started to slowly untie them by hand. She clearly got fed up with this tactic and soon hacked the away with a knife. As soon as he was free of his ropes, Dick jumped out of the chair and stumbled about. He heard Psycho laugh at him.

He then felt two strong hands grab his arms, causing him to cry out when they irritated his cuts. His knees then were kicked and his legs became a mess on the floor. Kicking and screaming, he was dragged across the floor and forced into a sitting position. His wrists were lifted behind him and were now being tied to a thick metal stick. A pole, Dick guessed. But when did a pole decide to sprout in the room? Maybe it was behind him and he just couldn’t’ve seen it from where he had been.

When he was done getting tied to the pole, he heard Psycho kneel down beside him.

“Isn’t it nicer being able to stretch out your legs and such?” a hand brushed against shoulder and Dick flinched, causing pain to erupt in his arms and him to hiss.

“Isn’t it?” the hand tightened on his shoulder, squeezing the scarred flesh and bruised muscles.

“Y-yeah,” came the reply from the boys mouth even though his brain told him to keep it shut. He breathed a sigh of relief as the hand unclasped its hold on him and heard Psycho stand up and softly click clack away.

“Now, I have to go, little Birdie. But I’ll be back soon, don’t worry!” he could practically hear her insane grin. The door opened and clicked shut and Dick was alone in utter silence, apart from his racing heart.

 

 

 

Bruce slammed his fist into the computer screen and the screen cracked. He growled as he braced his hands on the large desk in the Bat Cave, breathing heavily.

“Nothing!” he yelled. “We’ve been at it for a day and we haven’t come up with a damn lead to find Richard!”

Alfred, placed a hand on his shoulder, but Bruce shrugged it off and Alfred sighed. “I know Master Bruce. But-”

“But what?” Bruce whirled around. “We’re just going to magically find him using technology? I hate to break it to you Alfred, but life isn’t a comic!” The two men stared at each other before Bruce ran a hand through his greying hair. “Sorry,” he muttered and turned back to stared at the multiple screens on the wall and desks. His eyes blindly glanced over the computers, rereading the same texts and pictures portrayed on the screens.

“What are we missing?” he said mostly to himself. When he had found the rag drenched in chloroform, he had called Alfred and soon Batman went and ‘visited’ some old ‘friends’ at Arkham Asylum. He interrogated the Joker, Two-Face, Hush, and anyone else who had a vendetta over him, but it didn’t lead to anything.

“Perhaps,” Alfred said slowly. “We are looking at things from the wrong perspective.”

Bruce arched an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, we’ve been wondering who might’ve gotten young Richard to get their revenge on Batman, but have you considered that they stole the boy for Bruce’s or even Richards’ sake?”

“But he was Robin when it happened,” Bruce reasoned.

“True, he was. But what if they, whoever took him, knew Richard was Robin? What if they had been watching him and found out somehow? What if they knew you were Batman?”

“That’s a lot of what ifs, Alfred. And anyway, we haven’t gotten any ransom notes or threats,” he pointed out.

“Good point,” Alfred mused and looked off into space. “Unless of course their keeping us in suspense.”

“Okay, but if your theory right, then who would want to have revenge on me or Richard?”

“Wealthy business men, ex-employees, enemies of Wayne Industries, the list goes on.”

Bruce nodded along, his stomach tightening at the thought. He moved and started typing on the keyboard. He hit enter and images and articles of all kinds popped up and Bruce and Alfred read the screens. Bruce squinted and read a paragraph that said that Bruce Wayne was really dead and the Bruce Wayne now was just a clone. He rolled his eyes at the notion.

“What’s this?” Alfred pointed to some articles and pictures. Bruce blew them up to get a better look.

“It’s just an article about that Psycho freak,” he dismissed.

“Yes… but do you recognise a pattern of the victims?” the butler stroked his chin.

Bruce did a double take on the screen and studied the list of victims.

Samuel Swenner, thirty-nine years old, brown hair and eyes.

Alison Johnson, forty-seven years old, blond with grey eyes.

Katie Hert, ten years old, amber eyes and blue dyed hair.

Winston Wells, seventy years old, green eyes and faded red-grey hair.

Jack Rinket, thirty-six years old, gold hair and hazel eyes.

Julie Cane, seventeen years old, blue eyes and black hair.

Bailey Anderson, fourteen years old, brown hair and eyes.

Robert Parr, forty years old, blond with grey eye-

“Wait a moment,” Bruce scanned the rest of the file closely.

Elizabeth Stone, twenty-one years old, dyed orange hair and amber eyes.

Mathew Conn, nine years old, red hair and green eyes.

Timothy Edge, twenty-eight, hazel eyes and gold hair.

There was a pattern.

“It’s… it’s their hair and eyes?” Bruce was confused. Alfred nodded. “Yes, I believe so.”

Bruce scanned the rest of the victims’ hair and eyes.

Blue eyes, black hair. Brown eyes and hair. Blond, grey eyes. Some type of dyed hair, amber eyes. He read all the way to the last and recent victim.

Tina Lax, thirty-two years old, hazel eyes and gold hair. Suddenly, a daunting thought struck Bruce.

“Alfred, when did Psycho last strike?”

“About a month ago, why?”

Without answering, Bruce asked the next question. “What’s the next colour for hair and eyes?” he asked it, but he knew already the answer.

“Black hair and blue eyes,” Alfred responded.

Richard had blue eyes and black hair. Both men came to the realization at the same time and turned to each other, each baring the same horrified expression.

“You don’t think…” Alfred trailed off and looked at the screen.

“Fuck,” Bruce muttered. “We need to find him,” he panicked. “Now!”  

 

 

Dick didn’t know how long he sat there, tied to the pole. But it was long enough for his arms to go numb and stiff. He tried shaking them out but it only ended in hurting his already throbbing arms. He still had the cloth wrapped around his face, no matter how hard he shook his head back and forth.

Dick had attempted to stand, but the notion only made him dizzy from the lack of food and water.  He’d slumped back into a seated position and sat there for what seemed like hours. Maybe it was. He sighed and closed his eyes, falling into an uneasy slumber.

 

_Ten year old Dick Greyson glanced warily around the elementary school yard with nervous butterflies dancing in his stomach. Kids of all ages and genders played and hung out around the playground, not paying any notice to the new boy._

_The sky was a covered with pale grey clouds, hiding the sun. There was a slight wind in the air and Dick shivered against the dull cold._

_Alfred had dropped Dick off at the school, told him to have fun, then drove off. It had been almost two weeks since he had been adopted by Bruce Wayne and the multi billionaire had decided it would be a good idea to switch Dick to a school that was closer to Wayne Manner. Dick didn’t mind. It wasn’t like he’d had any friends at his old one._

_Dick tensely made his way over to an unoccupied swing and took a seat, waiting for the bell to sound. It moved a little under his weight and Dick started to trail his feet in the sand beneath. He was so preoccupied that he didn’t notice that anyone had come up to him until a voice startled him out of his dreary thoughts._

_“Hi!”_

_Dick jumped and looked up to see a boy around his age with sandy blond hair that looked like it hadn’t been combed in decades and dark hazel eyes. He had a bit of dirt smudged on his face and a missing front tooth._

_“H-hi,” Dick muttered._

_The boy sat down on a swing next to Dick. “I’m Mike. Mike Lee,” he stated._

_“I’m Richard Greyson, but everyone calls me Dick,” Dick explained._

_“Cool!” was all the boy, Mike, said. They sat in silence for a minute or two before Mike spoke up._

_“Do you have any friends?” he asked._

_Dick was taken aback by the blunt question. “Um no…”_

_“Great, me neither. Wanna be friends?” Mike grinned at him. Dick brightened. “Sure!” he grinned back. The bell rang and the two new friends raced off into the school._

Dick woke up and glanced around, or tried to until he remembered that he had a rag over his eyes. He sighed and shook his head. A tear slipped out of his eye and got soaked up in the cloth. Damn did he miss Mike!

He selfishly wished his friend was here then thought better of it. If Mike was here then he would have gone through the same shit Dick was.

He wondered if Psycho would be back soon. He hoped not. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. Where was Bruce? He was the world’s greatest detective, why was it taking so long to rescue him from this monster?

He let his head bang against the metal pole and suppressed a sob. He couldn’t go on like this. Being no more than a… a play toy for some insane person. He had to get out of here!

But how?

He was currently tied to a freaking pole! It wasn’t like he could just pop out of his binds.

Or could he?

Dick leaned forward as much as he could and pulled away from the beam with all his might. He yanked and jerked, gritting his teeth as his arms protested.

He pulled and pulled, praying that, by some miracle, the ropes would just fall off. His arms were screaming at him to stop and all his lungs wanted to do was cry at the top of their lungs, but Dick kept his mouth shut, allowing no sound to come out. He had to stay absolutely silent. He didn’t want to alert Psycho that her ‘little Birdie’ was trying to escape.

 He strained his muscles as he kept on pulling and pulling. Finally he stopped, just for a break.

He was breathing heavily and his heart was racing and head throbbing. He leaned back to rest his back on the pole and fiddled with his fingers.

Wait.

Was it his imagination, or did the ropes seem looser than before. He wiggled his wrists excitedly and grinned. Yes! The ropes _were_ looser than before! He supressed the urge to yell with glee and used the extra energy to start yanking his arms again. It was a lot easier to ignore the pain in his arms now that he knew he was making progress.

Dick yanked and pulled and jerked and thrusted his appendages away from the pole with all of his might and will. He didn’t stop until he was sure he would be able to rip his hands out from his bindings.

And sure enough, with much more pulling, he was finally able to tear his rope burned wrists from the ropes.

He almost shrieked with victorious laughter but kept it to a soft huff. He ripped off the rag around his eyes. He blinked a couple times as his eyes adjusted to the dim light entering from the windows. He focused his gaze on the glass to try and make out what time it was. He guessed it was around late evening.

Heh, he thought. Maybe I’ll make it home in time for supper.

 Smirking to himself, Dick slowly rose to his feet, blinking away at the black dots that surrounded the edge of his vision. He placed a hand on the metal beam to balance himself as he swayed a bit. Alfred had better cook something great. Like… he thought for a moment as he gained some energy. Maybe pizza! Or roast! Or-

Stop it, he reprimanded himself. You can think about that later, you have to get out of this hellhole first.

He made himself let go of the pole and stumbled forward, making sure to be absolutely quiet when doing so. He walked to the door, passing the chair he had been tied to. Ah, memories.

When he go o he door, Dick paused, leaned in to the wood, and listened hard. He couldn’t hear any noises coming from outside the door. That was a good sign.

The boy wonder slowly opened the door, cringed as an ominous creaking sounded. Peeking his head out into the hallway, Dick glanced around for the bitch. No sign of her. A relieved grin spread across his face and he opened the door wide enough for him to walk through.

He tip-toed down a grim hallway covered in dust. The hall led only one way, to the right and then curved off to the left and out of sight from the teen. There weren’t any windows in said hallway, but Dick could see a light at the end of the hall.

He quietly padded down the hallway, the floor beneath him groaning and creaking making him wince and pray that Psycho wouldn’t be able to hear him.

When he reached the end, he peeked his head around the corner looking for any signs of danger. He saw a big open space and a little to the right… a door! And the glass that was in the door showed a dim tree and grass. Freedom!

 Without thinking, Dick ran straight for the door.

But with no warning, a hand clasped around the back of his shirt and he was yanked roughly back. He cried out as he was dumped on his back onto the floor.

“What. Do. You. Think. You’re. Doing?” came an angry voice behind him. Dicks’ blood turned to ice and his heart froze as Psycho’s face appeared in his vision. She looked pissed. Her face was contorted with anger and she was breathing heavily.

“Getting away from you!” Dick tried to leap up, but Psycho pushed him back down. “That was a mistake,” she said then reached behind her and pulled out a metal baseball bat. Dick had a feeling they weren’t going to play ball.

Before he could get out of the way, the insane woman brought the bat crashing down onto Dicks ribs. He heard a crack from inside him, then pain exploded in his ribcage. He screamed and rolled over but Psycho was far from done.

She kept smashing the bat down on his back, a fierce fire in her eyes. Dick cried in agony as it crashed down upon him again and again. Dick tried crawling away to the door, “Oh no, you don’t!” Psycho whispered. She grabbed his shirt and dragged him back to the room he escaped from. Dick screamed and pleaded, all the while tears streamed down his face. Both from the pain and disappointment. He had been so close!

 She threw him onto the floor and gave him a few more wacks in the ribs with her bat for good measure. She paused and studied the boy before him. He was moaning and crying, his voice raspy and raw from all the screaming. He had curled into a tight ball, trying to protect himself, she smiled cruelly at that. Soon he would have nothing to protect.

She knelt down beside him. “You’ve been a bad boy, Birdie,” her voice was no more than a whisper. “I’m going to have to punish you now.”

Her Birdie whimpered and her hand stroked his hair and he jerked away from the touch. She sighed and cheerfully giggled. What a cute little Birdie she had.

She brought her head out from her thoughts and frowned. Back to business. She looked at her Birdies pretty face and smiled as her eyes caught sight of the burned flesh. She also noticed a faint bruise on his cheek. She then glanced into to tear-filled blue eyes. A bit of purple would go good with that. She smiled.

She then grabbed a chunk of his hair in her left hand, keeping him still. Without any time for him to blink, her right fist was punched into his left eye. His groaned pathetically as she continued to beat it. It was music to her ears. She brought her fist upon him plenty more times, and her Birdie tried to push her away, but she simply kept him pinned down. When she was satisfied with his swollen eye, she did the same to his other until they were matching.

She got off him and watched him curl up again, moan, and clutch his eyes. She laughed tauntingly at him.

“Poor Birdie,” she whispered and watched with glee as he shivered at the sound of her voice. Her eyes scanned every wound on him. She frowned as she thought of his escape. It wasn’t very nice of him to do that. She glanced at his legs. Maybe she could fix that.

            She looked around and spotted her bat lying on the floor. She grinned and picked it up. Psycho walked over to him and her eyes lit up as her Birdie stiffened at the sound of her approaching footsteps, she was breaking him! Giddiness welled up inside her and her grin grew bigger.

“Birdie,” she softly told him. “I’m going to hurt you some more.”

Her Birdie whimpered and attempted to scoot back but cried out when he moved his broken bones.

“Don’t worry, it won’t be long. I’ll be as quick as I can,” she assured him.

“N-no… please…” he pleaded with her and she relished his hopeless tone.

“I’m sorry little Birdie, it has to be done. You flew too early and now I have to clip your wings.”

The boy sobbed and Psycho knelt down next to him. “Sshh,” she quieted. “It won’t be so bad. It’ll be over before you know it, my little Birdie.”

The boy mumbled something too incoherent to understand.

“What was that?” she soothed and stroked his black hair.

“N-not your B-birdie!” he spat out. Psycho jerked her hand away from his dark locks and scowled at him.

“Yes, you are,” she stated. She pressed an arm against one of his ribs. He cried out and scrunched up his swollen eyes. “Say that you are my Birdie,” she ordered. “Say it!”

He didn’t say anything, just cried and moaned. Her hand pushed harder against his broken ribs. “Say it!” her words were now at normal speaking tone. “Say that you belong to me, you are my little Birdie!” she ordered again and again.

Finally getting fed up with him, she punched her fist repeatedly on his ribs. Her little Birdie shouted and writhed as she went on. “Say it! Say it! Say it!” she was shrieking now, losing all her control. When she had paused for a second she heard her Birdie whimper something, she leaned in closer to hear it better.

“I’m… I-I’m… B-Birdie,” he sobbed and his whole body shuddered. Psycho stared at him for a full minute, then, “Good job, little Birdie.”

She stood and walked gracefully over to his legs. “Good Birdie,” she whispered, then swung the metal bat smashing down upon her Birdie’s legs, and her Birdie screamed.  

 

 

Bruce hastily poured himself a cup of coffee and took a gulp as he watched the screen before him. After he had found out that Richard was taken by that Psycho, he had had Alfred pull up any and all surveillance cameras that were even remotely close to where he thought Richard was taken. So far he’d seen nothing to help him.

He only saw Richard drive on his motorbike into an ally and disappear from the cameras sight. He couldn’t see any kind of disturbance and there were no other cameras that showed the alleyway.

Bruce sighed and scanned the cameras feed again for what felt like the millionth time. He squinted and leaned forward as his adopted son came into view and drove into the alley. He replayed the image again, his eyes roaming everywhere on the screen in search of anything out of the ordinary.

It was raining so the camera was a little blurry but not too much. A few people walked by, taking no notice of the teen in the alley. Bruce had done searches on all the people but they all came out with clean records.

Rubbing at his tired eyes, the Dark Knight glared at the screen once more, as if doing so would show him where Richard was. Nothing happened and Bruce switched to another camera, one that showed the road the alley led to. It just showed rain pouring down and a mouse scurrying across the pavement. Bruce kept watching as yet, another mouse raced across again. He furrowed his brow. Strange how both mice looked and ran the exact same way.

He continued staring at the screen for a couple more minutes until yet another rodent flew across the alley. The mouse looked exactly the same as the other mice.

Bruce’s eyes widened as he came to a realization. The camera was being looped! Someone had deliberately tinkered with the cameras feed so no one would know what was actually happening!

Bruce almost dropped the mug in his hands.

Shit. This Psycho was a smart son of a bitch.

“Alfred!” he yelled and his butler came running from the other side of the cave.

“What is it Master Bruce?” he asked.

Bruce quickly explained the looped cameras to his butler and they both started working to find the correct surveillance video.

It was near impossible. Whoever had looped the feed certainly didn’t was the right one to be found.

But where there’s a will, there’s a way. And after what seemed like forever, they found the correct video. Bruce almost shouted for joy, until he saw what was on it.

It only showed half of the alley way, but it was enough for the worried men. At first they only saw rain, but with some fast forwarding, they found what they were looking for.

 A young, blond woman casually skipping toward the alley, paused, then hid behind some large garbage cans. She was almost invisible in the shadows. They knew that she was probably watching Richard. After a minute or two, she silently reached into her bag she was carrying and produced a rag and a bottle with some sort of liquid inside it. Bruce didn’t need to think very hard to guess that it was chloroform. His stomach twisted at the thought.

The blond woman the slunk forward and out of the cameras lenses. When she came back into view a few seconds later, she had a big grin on her face and was dragging a body with her. Richard. He was limp and his eyes were closed as she took him out of the alley. When the camera couldn’t follow her anymore, Bruce hurriedly switched to a different camera.

The next camera was looking out onto a vacant street and an empty parked car. They saw the woman drag Richard to the car, open the door to the back, and chuck him in. She shut the door with a thud and turned around, glancing this way and that. Her eyes caught onto the camera and her eyes widened. She then walked up and entered the building that the camera was latched onto. She was in there for quite a while and Bruce figured that she was looping the feed.

She hurried back out after spending half an hour in there and raced into her car and drove off.

Alfred wordlessly followed the car with different cameras that he and Bruce may or may not have hacked into. They watched as the car drove out of town and down a dirt road. It was a lot harder to follow her now that there weren’t as many cameras, but they somehow managed to stay on her tail.

Her car drove down road after road until she turned off on a small patch of dirt. The video stayed like that.

“What’s wrong? Why aren’t we following her?” Bruce inquired Alfred.

“I’m afraid,” Alfred typed madly on the keyboard. “That it is then end of the cameras.”

Bruce let out an exasperated huff. “Well where does that road lead!?”

Alfred pulled up a map on the screen and stared at it for a long time. “It leads to an abandoned farm house,” he glanced to Bruce.

Bruce nodded. “Then that’s where… where Richard is.” His voice cracked. Finally they were going to rescue him! Bruce allowed a small smile to tug at his lips. Alfred grinned with relief at the thought of getting Richard home safely.

Bruce and Alfred smiled o one another before hurriedly dashing around the cave.

_Don’t worry, Richard._ Bruce thought. _We’re coming for you!_

Dick woke up and immediately regretted it. His whole body was a throbbing white agony, thrumming in his blood and pounding in his head. His brain was murky and empty as he came to. He groaned as he woke up, then cut himself off when doing that brought more pain onto him.

He lay on the ground for a couple minutes, trying to quiet the screaming, raging pain in his being. When he felt like he wouldn’t explode, he slowly, carefully opened his eyelids. It sent piercing agony throughout his head and he had to pause. When he tried again, he was slower.

Dull like flooded his vision and he heard a pathetic moan sound from him. He focused on what he saw before him. Everything was blurry and foggy, due to his two swollen eyes. He shuddered as he remembered the events of yesterday. He’d been trying to escape and got caught.

As if on cue, Dick heard the sound of an opening door and the tail tell sounds of high heels clicking against the floor, a sickly sweet humming coming closer.

The boy attempted to scoot blindly away from the noise but cried out as the movement lashed out agony through him, mostly his… oh shit, his legs! She’d had broken them, or at least smashed them pretty good.

A soft giggle came from Psychos’ lips. “Oh, my poor Birdie,” she whispered and Dick felt a hand run soothingly through his hair, he stiffened. “I know it hurts,” she cooed. “But you need to understand that I had to do it. You needed to be taught a listen, my little Birdie. Do you understand?” There was a dangerous venom to her voice and the boy wonder obediently nodded his head, biting his tongue to stop from moaning at the movement.

A soft gasp and chuckled flew out of Psychos’ mouth.

“Good Birdie.” She sounded proud and Dick hated himself for being so weak, but he didn’t want her to hurt him anymore.

“Now, I’m going t-” psycho was cut off by a loud banging noise coming from another part of the house.

“What the…?” She trailed off and Dick heard her get up. There was more banging then a loud _crash_. What was going on?

The thumping of heavy feet echoed down the hallway and a voice calling out for someone, “Richard!” it was a deep groveling voice, one that Dick recognised immediately. Bruce! Bruce had come to save him!

“No, it’s not possible…” Psycho muttered, her voice laced with fear.

All of a sudden, Dick heard the door smash opened and the footsteps stop abruptly.  There was a moment of tense silence, and Dick was stuck looking at a large, dark, blurring figure before him.

“What the fuck?” came the gravelly voice. Then, without warning, the dark silhouette lunged forward and Dick cowered back, not heeding any pain as fear coursed through his veins. But he needn’t of been afraid. The dark figure had lunged toward Psycho.

Bruce growled, his tone angry and deadly. “What the _fuck_ did you do to my son?”   

 

 

Batman crashed through the front door of the old farmhouse, the evening sunlight streaming in through the broken door. A soft breeze lazily floated through the open doorway. Batman glanced around the building through slanted eyes. It was a large open and bare front room, dusty windows were perched on slanted window sills, barely letting light through the glass. There was a hall that led to the right and another door that Batman assumed led to a kitchen.

Batman quieted his pounding heart and strained his ears to hear any sort of sounds.

There! A soft feminine voice echoed from down the hallway. Batman growled and raced toward the noise, calling out for Richard. He ran down the hall, smashed open the door where he assumed the noise came from, and stopped short at what he saw.

There, lying on the floor was his son, Richard. His heart leapt into his throat and he gaped at the sight his son was in. His Robin suit was covered in blood, dirt, and rips. His eyes were both swollen and bruised, his left cheek red and a cut, but his other cheek... oh shit. It reminded him of Two-Face. His skin was a mass of melted and burnt skin, a green tint at the edges. His face was pale and wan.

Batman’s eyes widened as he traveled down the young heroes body, noting the odd angle the boy sprawled on the floor. His legs and feet were also twisted the wrong way, and looked like they were starting to bruise.

Batman rose his eyes to meet Richard’s swollen ones, his heart breaking at the panic he could see in them. His pupils then trained to the other person in the room. A young blond woman with bright blue eyes. It was her, she did this to him. His heart blackened at the sight of her and red was forming at the edge of his vision.

He lunged toward the shocked blond, grabbed her throat and lifted her up. She made a choking sound but Batman didn’t give a shit.

“What the fuck did you do to my son?” he growled at the bitch.

She tried wrenching Batman’s hand from her neck, but her manicured fingers only scratched at the black gloved hand. She futilely kicked her legs at him.

He tightened his hand around her neck, almost grinning as her eyes widened in pain. Good. She deserves it. He glanced down at his son. He was curled in on himself, his head covered by his hands. Batman glared at the girl. Her face was turning red and her eyes were going in and out of focus.

He growled at her and slammed her on the floor. She shrieked as her body hit the ground. Batman towered over her, his eyes turning to slits as she tried getting up. He grabbed the color of her shirt and threw her against the wall.

She screamed and tears sprung out of her eyes, she crumpled onto the ground and Batman stood threateningly over her. He grabbed her hair and forced her to look at him.

“How does that feel?” he twisted her hair, pulling some of her blond locks out. He looked back at Richard. At his son, broken and cowering on the floor.

He turned back to the woman. “How does it feel, knowing you hurt this boy,” he gestured to his son. “Look at him!” he forced her head in the direction of Richard. She stared at the boy, and to Batman’s surprise, started to laugh. A crazed, cold laughter. Her eyes were bright with twisted joy.

“My little Birdie looks perfect!” she shook with giggles and she looked at her Birdie again. Dick flinched away from her voice. “He’s so-”

A gloved fist interrupted her sentence, colliding with her nose. Bruce heard the satisfying crack and watched as the woman gasped. Blood poured out her nose and she lifted her hand, wiped at it, and looked up with a deadly gaze in her eyes.

“Do not int-”Batman gladly shut her up with a couple swift punches to the jaw. Her head snapped back violently and smashed hard against the wall, knocking her out cold.

Batman glared at her a moment longer with a loathing stare then turned to his son. He was violently shaking. Batman scooted over to him and gently touched Richards’ shoulder. The boy jerked back, away from Batmans’ hands and whimpered.

“Hey, hey,” he tried calming him. Richard froze at his voice.

“D-dad?” he hopefully asked, as if he couldn’t believe it. He turned to face Batman, his almost shut, swollen eyes searching Batmans’ features. Batman nodded his head, “Yeah, it’s me, son.”

Richards’ eyes widened with relief, then clouded over with worry. “B-but Psycho…” he trailed off.

“Don’t worry. I took care of her,” Batman didn’t even bother giving a glance behind him at Psycho. “You’re safe. You’re safe,” he repeated. Richard sighed then, without any warning, leaned against Batman and sobbed. Batman froze for a millisecond, then wrapped his arms around Richard.

The boy stiffened at almost instantly relaxed. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice muffled in Batmans’ shoulder. He let out a sob and shuddered against his father.

“Hey, hey. It’s alright. You have nothing to be sorry for.” Batman whispered. Richard hiccupped another sob. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” the older man encouraged as he held his son tightly. “I’ve got. I’ve got and I’m never letting go. Ever.”

Richard nodded into Batmans’ suit, crying with joy, and fear, and relief, and sadness. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Bruce had found him!

He leaned into his father a bit more and Batman pulled him in closer. They stayed like that for a while, not giving anything else in the world a second thought.

 

 

Richard was rushed to the emergency room with Bruce and Alfred by his side when they got back into Gotham. Bruce held Richards’ hand as he was carried down hallways on a gurney, too scared to let go, in case that monster would get him.

He, or Batman, had called the police after he and Richard were driving into Gotham, Richard going in and out of conscious. They had taken care of her and she was being put away in Arkham forever. Serves her right.

Bruce was stopped by a nurse who told him that he couldn’t go on. He growled and almost pushed past the nurse, but he refrained himself. Richard needed treatment, and couldn’t have it with Bruce hovering around the doctors. So he grudgingly sat down in a waiting room and watched the surveillance cameras and double checked the hidden mikes around the hospital, just to be safe. Alfred put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

After what seemed like eternity, a nurse came and informed him that Richard was sleeping and all patched up. Bruce raced to his room.

He opened the door silently, so not to wake his son, and tip-toed in silently closing the door behind him. He stood in the doorway and looked at Richard. He was lying in a hospital bed with machines all around him. His whole body was a mass of white wrapping, casts, and bandages. His eyes were closed and though still swollen, not as bad as they were before.

Bruce stumbled into the chair beside the bed, not taking his eyes off Richard. He looked so peaceful, there, lying on the bed asleep. Bruce watched him for a long time.

“You know,” he whispered. “You gave me quite the scare.” He paused and took in a shuddering breath. “I was so angry the night you called. But not at you, I was mad at myself. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, Richard. I’m sorry. If I had asked you to come home in a more reasonable manner, this wouldn’t’ve happened.” He gestured to the sleeping boys’ bandaged wounds. “I’m so sorry.”

A tear rolled down his cheek. Richard stayed asleep, lost in the world of dreams. Bruce hoped they were good dreams. He sighed and watched his son slumber. Watched his chest rise and fall. Watched the way some of his black hair flickered a bit as he moved slightly. Bruce gave him a watery smile. Man, he loved Richard.

He decided right then and there that he would be a better father. He smiled as he made his mind.

A soft knock on the door startled Bruce out of his thoughts. A nurse poked her head from behind the door. “Mister Wayne? I need you to fill out a few forms right now,” she kindly stated. Bruce nodded and got up from his chair. Before he left the room, he gave Richard one last loving look. He shut the door quietly.

Back in his bed, Dick furrowed his brow as he slept. He tossed and turned and little. The heart monitor next to his bed started to pick up speed. He mumbled fearfully in his sleep, not being able to wake up from his nightmare. He repeated the words over and over.

“…Birdie…”  

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo... yeah. I have no idea where this came from. Hope you liked it. Have a great life (I certainly have none)!


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